


Come as You Are

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Brother/Brother Incest, Fingering, Internal Conflict, Jealousy, Manipulation, Masturbation, Mention of blood, Multi, Past Issues, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Reader-Insert, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Scars, Sibling Bonding, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest, Unresolved Tension, choicest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "You feel like Saeran has entered you somehow, and it's only a matter of time before he bleeds you out and exhales your oxygen simply because he can. And that's where the real terror sets in because you know that you'd not only let him, you'd encourage it. You just don't know why." Saeran takes advantage of Sayoung's absence to play a trick on MC but things don't go quite as planned.





	Come as You Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hideyourghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideyourghost/gifts).



It's been two months since Saeran finally accepted one of Saeyoung's invitations. He had been persistent, reaching out to Saeran nearly every day with a new proposal or a refashioned request, and for all the times Saeyoung smothered Saeran in his desire to bring him home, in the end, it felt... _nice_. It was a new feeling but a welcome one, one that Saeran couldn't comprehend at first, but it was refreshing to be wanted without needing to fight for approval or personal gain. The sentiment was just _there_ , laid out before him like the building blocks necessary to reconstruct a new and stable foundation for himself. That's not to say that the acceptance came easy, it was an undertaking that Saeran wasn't entirely prepared for, and formulating the framework of his future was overwhelming considering the fact that he hadn't even had the time to put himself back together yet.

Which is why he's made so many mistakes over the last eight weeks. He takes on more than he's able, forces Saeyoung into situations that drive him into fits of near-hysteria, he pushes and he pulls and he protests and there's not a day that goes by when he isn't apologizing by means of escapism; because one isn't truly sorry when they're smirking behind the backs of those who deserve the reparation. And for all the times that you've witnessed the crooked tilt of his lips or the glistening dark of satisfaction in his gaze, you've never given him away. You know that you don't want to add to the weight already bearing down on Saeyoung's shoulders, but what you _don't_ _know_ is who you're really keeping quiet for, and that thought offers enough motivation to keep your distance from Saeran. It's unsettling and almost foreboding, much like the look in Saeran's eyes when you catch him staring at you. It leaves a sour taste on your tongue that melts into something dangerously sweet when it reaches the back of your throat. It touches on intimidation but it's not fear on your skin or fright in your belly, and in truth, the only dread you feel is how far you would go to chase that sweetness.

You feel like Saeran has entered you somehow and it's only a matter of time before he bleeds you out and exhales your oxygen simply because he can. And that's where the real terror sets in because you know that you'd not only let him, you'd encourage it. You just don't know why.

* * *

“I thought you were going out for a little while,” you say, giggling as the redhead trails his fingers up your sides to fit them in against the fading memory of the bruises he's left along your waist.

“I changed my mind,” he rasps, sliding a hand over the swell of a breast, to the delicate curve of your shoulder, and over your pulse before stopping to brace his fingers at the back of your neck. He brings your foreheads together and exhales so you're breathing in each other's air.

“For what purpose exactly?” you tease, slipping a hand beneath the soft weave of his favorite red t-shirt. Your knuckles brush the low of his abdomen and he inhales a sharp intake of breath, his muscles flexing as you rest your fingers over the tension-born heat radiating from his skin.

“What would you say if I told you I stayed because I wanted to fuck you?” The timbre of his voice is so low it purrs up the whole length of your spine and you can't still the shiver that shakes beneath your skin. You look into his eyes but desire has eclipsed the gilt of his gaze, leaving shadows to swamp his vision and frame you in their reflection.

“I guess I'd be a bit surprised by your candor but I'm not opposed to the idea.” You walk your fingers over his muscled abdomen and up to the rapid thrum of his heart. He closes his eyes and breathes desperation, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. “I can't say that–”

The words riding on the edge of your tongue dissolve into heat because the hand at the back of your neck is tensing, bringing you flush against the other's body as he kisses you with a passion equal to the hunger of a lion. His mouth is slack in an attempt to breathe while kissing you breathless and each thought, each word that you wanted to say gets lost to the backdrop of the room. It's irony and desire and you're melting into his embrace, your lips parting of their own accord to offer entry for the slick warmth of his tongue.

You feel like you're sinking, like you're drowning in the fever that's turning to damp on your skin. You can hear the low purr of a moan echo in your ears but you don't remember making the sound, and before you can parse its origin strong hands are pushing you against the nearest wall. You emit a shrill note when your back makes contact with the hard surface but it's not enough to break the kiss, all lips and tongue and teeth. Hands claw at your shoulders, unstated desperation begging for the removal of your long sweater. You smile at his eagerness and draw away just enough to inhale what little breath you can fit in the space of your lungs. “What's up with you?”

“I told you, I want to fuck you,” he tells you, nipping your bottom lip sharply. “Is this the first time that you're seeing this side of me?” He arches an eyebrow and winds an arm around your waist to pull you close. Your hips collide and you gasp: the sharply drawn breath is not meant for the initial contact but the firm resistance pressing against your inner thigh. You don't have to see your face to know that your cheeks are flushed a dusty rose and that your lips are swollen and bitten red.

“Shouldn't you be the one with the answer to that?” you ask, chuckling as you lift your chin to meet his heat-glazed stare. “How should I know what sides you've shown me? You have so many.” You lean forward and arch your back to drag the flat of your tongue up the side of his neck. He growls something incoherent but it doesn't matter because his hands are in your hair and he's kissing the question right out of your mouth.

“Why am I not surprised?”

You would have missed the question entirely if not for the electric spark of anger behind each slow drag of enunciation. You rest the flat of your palm against the boy's chest pressed firmly against you and push gently, inadvertently putting distance between you. You turn your head in the direction of the same voice you've been hearing in your dreams and exhale a shuddering breath. “Sae...young?” You narrow your eyes as if the action will help you decode the truth of your current situation. “If you're...” you turn your focus back to the boy in front of you and forcefully shove him away from where you're standing. “Saeran? What the hell?”

Saeran's laugh is cold and nearly hollow and it wraps your skin in a chill that sinks down to the marrow in your bones. He steps back, a wolfish grin on his spit-slick lips. “I had to know.”

“Had to know what, exactly?” you ask, trying to ignore the tingling sensation spreading through your lips and the way Saeran's eyes are blown wide with lust.

“If I could pass for my twin,” he says, as simply as if reiterating tonight's dinner plans. “It looks like you don't know him as well as you thought.” He shrugs and turns to face Saeyoung, exhaling a snort of amusement when he meets his tense expression. “What? It's not like I have much to do here. I got bored.”

“Saeran, come over here.” It's all Saeyoung says but the words are like ice on his breath and you can almost hear the frost forming on his lungs when he makes the demand. It's haunting and it feels like winter came and put a freeze on all of the clocks in the room because time seems to stand still as tension rises between them.

“What?” Saeran snaps, not bothering to hide his annoyance, but then again, he never has. He shuffles closer to his brother, defiance outlining every step he takes. He stops next to Saeyoung, a storm brewing behind the lines of his lashes and a wicked smile on his lips. “Don't give me that look. I was–”

Saeyoung snatches the collar of Saeran's shirt and bodily spins him around to slam his back against the front door. The door responds in a language that you can't understand but you seem to be the only one who hears it because there's no room for distraction in the scant space between the two brothers. “You were what? Hoping that I'd come home and find you in bed with _my_ girlfriend? You knew I wouldn't be gone long. Is this another one of your gambits to get back at me?”

“Of course not.” Saeran reaches out to run his fingers over Saeyoung's lips, down his neck to still at the hollow of his throat. “I told you, I was bored. I didn't realize that she was your property.”

Saeyoung smacks aside Saeran's hand and presses himself flush against his brother's body, pinning him against the door as he forces his forearm in against his throat. “Don't try to feed me that shit. And you know that I don't view her that way. She's mine, yeah, but she's not _property_.”

Saeran coughs, the pressure threatening to crush his trachea cutting off his ability to breathe. You open your mouth to protest Saeyoung's punishment but Saeran's laughing and tangling his fingers in his twin's hoodie to tug him impossibly close. “Don't act so virtuous, Saeyoung.” Saeran lowers his gaze to the cross dangling between them, the silver detail catching resplendent in the light. “You're no God,” he spits, hissing venom between the cool edges of his teeth.

“No, I'm not, because if I was things with you would have been a lot different.” You can hear the knife-edged pain in Saeyoung's voice and at that moment, you feel like you're trespassing on an intimate moment you shouldn't be witnessing.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Saeran barks, narrowing his eyes to slits as the darkness returns to eclipse the gold that you're accustomed to seeing on his twin.

Saeyoung wraps his hand around Saeran's throat and squeezes. Saeran's breath catches and his eyes flutter shut and you're about to intervene for a second time when Saeyoung yanks his brother into a bruising kiss. Saeran reaches for Saeyoung's shoulders blindly, and you're sure that his intention is to shove him away but he's tugging Saeyoung forward roughly, his fingers clutching at his clothes in a show of marked desperation. You can't parse who's moaning in the chaos unfolding before you but it sounds like pleasure and pain and relief all at once, stitched into a single emotion that adds to the scars that mar their bodies. With every ragged breath you take, they advance; a tongue seeking acceptance, teeth catching the plush of a lip, hands desperately seeking skin, hips shifting to find friction, every motion, every gesture coming harder and faster. You feel like you're dreaming, lost in their feelings as your thoughts blur to leave your mind reeling. You feel like they're taking you apart and you're not even an element in their battle: a fight for the top as they dive headfirst into the depths of their history.

You watch with fascination as Saeyoung winds a hand in Saeran's hair, all while grinding against Saeran's leg like a dog in heat. Where you would expect to find shame there's confidence, and you wonder if this is really the first time Saeyoung considered doing something to this extreme. But if Saeran minds, he's not showing it. Instead, he's hooking his fingers around Saeyoung's belt-loops to bring their hips together and when he shifts, Saeyoung tugs at the hair tangled in his fist and growls into Saeran's mouth. “Fuck,” he breathes, rocking his hips forward to draw a snarl up from the shadows of his brother's throat.

You stand rooted to the spot, hands toying with the hem of your sweater absentmindedly as you watch with bated breath, your heart hammering in your chest. It plays a song unlike any you've ever heard previously and it calls forth the desire that's burning in the low of your belly. You worry the bottom line of your mouth between your teeth and whimper quietly when Saeran palms Saeyoung's erection through his jeans. Saeyoung breaks the kiss to glance at you over his shoulder. His mouth looks swollen and red like the bright of summer cherries, and you could easily mistake the rivulet of blood staining his bottom lip for juice if you didn't know better. Saeran doesn't slow his ministrations despite losing Saeyoung's full attention and it's obvious that Saeyoung's neck is sensitive because he's shivering and closing his eyes when Saeran attacks the smooth column of his throat with an amalgamation of open-mouthed kisses and harsh bites. Then Saeyoung crooks his finger in your direction and you take the gesture as a wordless invitation. You don't realize that you're moving until you're mere inches from Saeyoung and he's pulling you in front of him, wedging you between himself and Saeran.

“Do you want her?” Saeyoung asks Saeran, his breath hot against your ear.

You lift your head despite feeling radiant heat blossom across your cheekbones and look Saeran in the eye. He stares back at you and it's unnerving; it feels like he can see _through_ you and down to your soul where he's stripping you apart to read the collection of thoughts crowding your mind. He drags his tongue across his lips, smearing moisture in the fine cracks you can only see at the angle of your juxtaposition.

Saeyoung presses himself against your back and exhales softly, his breath tickling the fine hairs gathered at the nape of your neck. “Well?” he says, trying to coax a response out of Saeran. His hands close on your hips for a brief moment, then he's reaching around you to slip a hand beneath the hem of your sweater. His fingers graze the low of your abdomen, the touch just this side of teasing, then he's hooking his thumb around the waistband of your leggings to draw them lower. “There's no point in playing at modesty now, Saeran. I know how you feel.” Saeyoung reaches out a hand and taps Saeran's temple twice before adding: “Twins, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Saeran snaps, but it lacks its usual bite. And no sooner than he's spoken is he drawing his eyes up and over the knitting of your sweater to meet your eyes, hunger so bright in his gaze you can't help but think he's been starved for more than sustenance. “Yes, I want her,” he tells Saeyoung, never breaking eye contact with you. A chill rockets down your spine and you feel like he's skinned you with his tongue, and Saeyoung chases the sensation with his teeth, biting the nape of your neck while pushing your bottoms lower still. You close your eyes and let darkness swallow your sight, yet, you still know that it's Saeran's teeth nipping at your ear and his hands clutching at the bulk of fabric concealing your waist.

“And if I let you have her?” Saeyoung's voice slips further away as he lowers himself into a crouch, tugging your bottoms over your hips and down your legs as he goes. When he returns to standing he lets his hoodie fall to the floor and divests himself of his shirt, tossing it to the left side of the room. You don't have to look at him to envision the scars on his arms, some from past incidents at the agency, others from Saeran. However, they're nothing to the scars that disfigure Saeran's body, made visible when he follows Saeyoung's lead, casting aside the clothing he borrowed with haste. You lift a hand to his chest, fingers tracking a particularly deep scar that forms a line along his sternum.

“Do they bother you?” Saeran asks, fear and something cold catching on the raw edges of his words. He grabs your wrist, his fingers digging in against your pulse point as he guides your hand down and over the numerous blemishes that contrast his pale skin.

Saeyoung is breathing against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, seemingly unfazed by the fact that Saeran is ignoring his question—blatant or otherwise—in lieu of watching his silent instruction. Then he's exhaling a huff of laughter and reaching out to touch a series of old wounds that once cut into the delicate angle of Saeran's left shoulder. “You should tell her how you got these,” Saeyoung says, his touch more glancing than it is forceful.

“Fuck off, Saeyoung,” Saeran says, but it's obvious that he's trying hard not to smile. You lean back against Saeyoung's chest and continue to map out the imperfections that crisscross here and turn to darker shades of red there with a sense of fascination.

“You both have a scar here,” you say, brushing your fingers over a small cruciate mark above Saeran's heart so faded by time you nearly miss it.

“Blood brothers,” Saeyoung says, his voice barely making it above a whisper. “Back when we were just kids.” He lets his hand fall to the scar, his fingers ghosting over your own as he traces the mark. Saeran inhales a sharp breath and Saeyoung smiles against your neck when he drags his nails down Saeran's chest, forcing the breath back out of the other boy's lungs.

“I thought you were supposed to prick your finger or something,” you say, shuddering when Saeyoung drags his tongue up the side of your neck.

“Yeah, well we weren't exactly the conventional type. We always had to do things our own way—bigger and better, bolder and brighter.” Saeyoung slides a hand beneath the hem of your sweater and up your inner thigh, his touch more teasing than it is satisfying. “We were always looking for the best.” He rucks the knit fabric up and around your hips, just high enough to expose your backside to the tepid air. You shiver and press your palm flat against Saeran's chest, and you're half-expecting Saeyoung to enter you without preparation but his motivation is made clear when his hand connects with your ass, the intensity of the blow making you cry out in stupefaction-laced shock. Saeyoung chuckles and slides a hand in sideways between your bare thighs to press his fingers against your slick heat. You moan and wriggle your hips by means of involuntary reaction, gasping when Saeyoung's fingers graze your clit.

Saeran groans and the sound purring low in his throat shatters what little focus you have left. You lower your head and realize that somewhere between your fascination and Saeyoung's ministrations you must have missed Saeran unfastening his pants because you're stricken with surprise when you see that his hand is gripping his cock, tugging impatience to interpolate pain. You look away from his weeping member only to catch him smirking down at you, a look of smug satisfaction outlining his features. You narrow your eyes in an attempt to challenge his arrogance and lean forward, desperately seeking his lips as Saeyoung pushes two fingers into your entrance.

Saeran shifts his eyes over to Saeyoung for a brief second before he fits his lips against your own in a kiss so dominant you can feel a bruise forming beneath the soft tissue. It's urgent and certain and it contradicts Saeyoung's careful touches, his fingers moving gentle and slow as he stretches you open. You whimper against Saeran's lips and he steals the sound by means of encouragement when he licks into your aperture, his tongue charting every inch of your mouth and claiming it as his own.

You rock back against Saeyoung's hand, moaning as pleasure spins out across your skin and warmth floods your veins. Saeyoung seems to understand your unstated plea because he's pushing in a third digit, his fingers twisting to find the spot that flares white behind your eyes and leaves you keening for more. You arch your back and emit a high-pitched moan when Saeyoung's teeth close firmly on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Saeran draws back from the kiss, just enough to lap at the damp of your lips, and you can feel his cock stiffen to what must be a painful degree against the top of your thigh.

“What do you want?” Saeran asks, his voice grating on the shores of desire, like his words are being scraped right out of his chest.

“More,” you breathe, tensing your fingers and leaving indistinguishable fingerprints in the fine sheen of sweat that's collecting on his chest.

Saeran's lips twist into the same crooked smirk you've grown to associate with him alone, then he's looking at Saeyoung and asking: “How many fingers?”

“Three,” Saeyoung answers, angling his digits _just so_ and you have to bite back a moan as your knees grow weak and your brain begins to short circuit. You feel like you're on the verge of collapsing, melting between the heat of their bodies and going dizzy from the pleasure swamping your veins.

“Can she take four?” Saeran asks, conversationally. He grips the base of his cock and rocks forward, sliding its damp head over your clit. Your vision turns to white and you're choking on a strangled sound, half need and half breath. Saeran presses his forehead against yours as Saeyoung continues to expertly stroke the heat between your thighs.

“I don't know. We never get that far,” Saeyoung tells his brother, his lips brushing your neck.

“I don't think we're going to find out today either,” Saeran says, grinding forward as you unconsciously dig your nails into his chest. He kicks apart your feet and lines himself up to your entrance, silently waiting for Saeyoung to accept what he's so desperately seeking. Saeyoung eases his fingers out of your wet heat and moans as he presses his slick digits to his twin's lips before Saeran thrusts forward and sheathes himself in your cunt.

Saeran groans around Saeyoung's fingers, his eyes closed as he sucks the salt-sweet slick from his brother's skin. Saeyoung exhales a breath that sounds like contentment before lowering his head to suck at a patch of skin along the curve of your shoulder. His fingers leave Saeran's mouth with an audible slide and you watch as a fine thread of saliva breaks and collects on Saeran's chin. You stare at the glistening strand as Saeyoung slides his hand through your loose strands to pull your hair into a knot in his fist. You lean forward as much as the bracing hold at your scalp will allow and trail your tongue up Saeran's chin and to his lips, all while reaching behind you with a hand to pull Saeyoung closer.

Saeran growls something incoherent but you don't bother trying to make sense of it because he's pushing himself deeper, thrusting harder with each shaky exhale that leaves his mouth. Saeyoung tugs your head back nips the shell of your ear before turning his attention to his twin. Saeran's gaze is half-lidded and hazy with lust but he still manages enough comprehension to capture Saeyoung's lips in a sloppy kiss over your shoulder.

“Fuck,” Saeran snaps, letting his head fall back against the firm resistance behind him. He clenches his eyes shut and furrows his brow as Saeyoung presses against you, guiding your hips forward in time with each calculated roll of Saeran's own. You can feel Saeyoung's cock—now free of its confines—slicking the back of your right thigh with each grueling motion. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, offering reassurance where you think it's due, and Saeyoung crushes your mouths together in a kiss better fit for his brother. However, it speaks for all the questions that have risen to the surface of your mind, and you note the tension that melts away as your body begins to quiver with need. Saeyoung pushes your sweater up higher around your waist and you can feel the bare slick of his abdomen against the small of your back. His cock slides between your thighs and for all that you're unsure of where Saeran's moans begin and Saeyoung's end, you're positive that their cocks are rubbing together, and that friction is the catalyst to Saeran's sudden need to pound into you with more urgency than before.

“Fuck, Saeran. You keep that up and you're going to break her,” Saeyoung says, his words implying interest but his tone suggesting caution.

But Saeyoung might as well be speaking in tongues for what his words are worth because his other half is breathing heavily, his hands branding your skin when he closes his fingers on your waist to tug you flush against his body. His thrusts are as unremitting as they are faltering and he's picking up speed when Saeyoung reaches between your legs to stroke himself closer to orgasm. He twists his wrist on every upward stroke and his knuckles graze the wet collecting on the insides of your thighs. Saeran curses and buries himself to the hilt before capitulating to his body's desires, and Saeyoung is spilling completion only seconds later, streaking your skin with viscous ribbons and mottling the floor with droplets of come.

Saeyoung's hand remains in your hair but his hold lessons, then he's pressing his lips to your ear, the filth on his tongue dripping into silky sibilance as Saeran withdraws from your sullied sex to stroke your clit roughly. The room spins onto its side and everything turns to a dusty haze but when you meet Saeran's gaze, you hide inside his eyes and pretend that you can fly because you know that you're about to fall.

“Come for us, Kitten,” Saeyoung commands, splaying a hand across your stomach to grind you into the friction of Saeran's touch. Your knees buckle and you go limp as a spasm of pleasure shocks through your system. It overrides your ability to think, to _breathe_ , but Saeran's fingers keep moving as he bends down to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, and Saeyoung's shoving a hand between your thighs to manipulate your entrance for a second time.

You're gasping for breath and shaking so violently you consider it a small mercy to be pressed between the two boys keen on torturing you— _and enjoying it far too much_ —because when you lose a silent battle to gravity, Saeran's gathering your wrists in his hands and Saeyoung's clutching at your hips.

“I think that's the hardest she's ever come,” Saeyoung says, the satisfaction in his tone apparent as the words dissolve into the overheated air.

“That's because–”

Saeyoung lifts a hand and presses his fingers to Saeran's lips. “Don't you dare,” he warns. “I mean it.”

You expect to find his usual smirk on his lips when you tilt your chin up to look at him but you find a genuine smile in its place. “Are you going to throw this in my face later?” Saeran asks, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your wrists.

“Not when you have so much to throw back at me,” Saeyoung says, laughing and slightly breathless. “Why don't we just get something to eat and figure out exactly where we're going with this?”

“Can we please take a shower first?” you chime in, pulling a face as the sticky remnants of their mutual satisfaction drip down your legs. “I can't really eat like this.” You tug at the hem of your sweater, grateful for its length, but the mess between your thighs is still quite obvious.

“God Seven to the rescue!” Saeyoung lilts, lifting you into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder.

“Saeyoung! Put me down!” you shout, kicking your feet in protest as he claps a hand over your ass and marches down the hall leading to the bathroom.

“Does this mean that she belongs to me now too?” Saeran asks, following close behind Saeyoung. “Because I think it's pretty obvious that she likes _both_ of us. Besides, I can always just pretend to be you again.”

“No!” you say in time with Saeyoung. He sets you down on the bathroom tile and you're grateful to be back on the ground save for the tremor still laying claim to your body. You moisten your lips to speak but it's Saeyoung who addresses Saeran first.

“You have to promise me that you'll never pretend to be me again.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “At least, not without my permission,” he adds, too contemplative to spell anything but trouble.

“What do you mean not without your permission? I think I have a right to know who I'm...getting intimate with,” you say, wrinkling your nose at your choice of words. “And how many of those outfits do you have?” you exclaim.

Saeran exhales a snort that resembles laughter and Saeyoung shrugs. “One for every day of the week, at least,” he says.

“One is bad enough. That hoodie is hideous,” Saeran supplies, dodging the playful punch aimed at his head. “What? Your fashion sense is on par with Yoosung's.”

“Yeah, because yours is something to brag about,” Saeyoung scoffs. “You should be working at an S&M club with all your leather and spikes and bondage collars. I'm surprised that Jumin hasn't taken more of a liking to you.”

“Boys,” you interrupt, arching an eyebrow and bracing your hands at your hips. “I think you're getting a bit off-track here.”

“Where exactly are we supposed to be going then, _Kitten_?” Saeran mocks. He tilts his head to the side and drags his gaze down over your body, his bottom lip pulled taut between his teeth.

“Meow,” Saeyoung purrs, but the sound quickly transitions to a grunt when Saeran jabs him in the side.

“How about this” –you slip your sweater over your head and drop it to the floor– “you can work out your disagreements by fucking me in the shower.”

Saeran and Saeyoung spare each other a sideways glance before shucking their matching jeans. You shake your head and roll your eyes as you step into the shower, but you can't erase the smile that's sticking to your lips like the sugary sweet of their kisses.

You sigh exasperation and close your eyes when the spray beats down on the top of your head, the heat easing the strain in your shoulders and cleaning the sticky mess clinging to your skin.

Just because you're good at listening doesn't mean that you're not going to make a few demands of your own. What's the point in having double the pleasure if you can't have double the fun? Right?

You really need to stop hanging out with Saeyoung so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
